All Things Come in Small Packages
by Eilidh17
Summary: Kidfic. This is one mission, SG-1 won't be giving a report on. The results are obvious.
1. Chapter 1

**All Things Come in Small Packages**

By Eilidh

Category: Kidfic

Warnings: None

Note: This is supposed to be a complete story… we'll see 

General George Hammond stretched out in his office chair and tried to ignore the dull ache that radiated from muscles left inactive for too long. The day had been long and difficult, and he needed just a few moments of silence to let the events of yesterday settle in his mind.

If he hadn't seen it for his own eyes, George was pretty sure he would have called anyone with such a fanciful tale to tell, a complete liar. Turning his laptop screen towards him, his fingers danced across the keyboard and brought up a picture of his premier team.

SG-1 was known for attracting trouble like metal shavings to a magnet. They didn't actively seek out a problem and make it their own, no; it was just that in their role as first contact team for the SGC, they were thrown into the fire more often than not. This time though, the mission had been more akin to a raging bush fire and the consequences had been… unusual.

To this day, as he live and breath, and in glorious technicolor, George would never forget the first MALP image that filtered back from P2Y-771. A planet the locals called Agoria, George had been assured by the anthropology department that its population was harmless, and the briefing only days earlier hadn't left him with any reason to be concerned.

"Think early eighteen hundreds, General," Doctor James had declared during the pre mission briefing as he waved over his shoulder at the large presentation screen on the briefing room wall. "Very little technology and with only a rudimentary knowledge of medicine."

As Doctor James slid down into his chair signalling the end of his presentation, Doctor La Gran had swiftly taken his place, the diminutive geologist toggling the display until a mosaic of different colored soil samples filled the screen. "Pure gold," she had declared, face almost split in two with a smile of delight.

"You're saying this planet is rich in gold, Doctor? Hardly something Earth is in short supply of," George had queried keeping his voice low.

"No, General, but what the Agoria can offer us by way of minerals could be likened to pure gold."

And so the briefing had gone on with all parties pushing for access to the planet to fill their own department's wish lists. Thanking them all for their time, George had declared SG-1's mission to Agoria a go, and escaped to his office for a shot of whiskey and a Tylenol.

George wished for all the world that he could indulge in the whiskey and Tylenol again, but the image on the screen itched persistently at his mind and kept him on the straight with his responsibilities. The Agorians played the hapless villager routine well and swore they had no idea how it happened. No idea how a team of healthy humans could suddenly – what was the word again? What had Doctor Fraiser called it? De-aged?

George toggled the image on the screen and brought up another more recent shot. This one had been taken after a rescue team had gone through to Agoria and brought SG-1 home.

"Downsized," George huffed as he zoomed in on Colonel O'Neill. "Damn silly name if you ask me!"

The image settled and for a brief moment, George smiled at the scene being played out in the picture. Sitting at the base of the stone gate ramp was four ornately woven baskets, each holding a swaddled child. Neatly folded, like great care had been taken to preserve them, where the uniforms that SG-1 had worn when they went through the gate. Various personal items sat atop the uniforms and were the only immediate way the rescue team had to identify each baby. Teal'c being the obvious exception.

There was no one else in the vicinity of the gate. No way to tell who had dialled the gate and pointed the MALP in the direction of the baskets. It was a mystery, and one that the Agorians had no intention of helping them solve.

So George's premier team had been brought back through the gate and home. Now, settled in a makeshift nursery deep inside Cheyenne Mountain were four three month old babies. All fed, burped, diaper changed, and fast asleep.

All of who had only a day ago been full grown adults.

The End


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2 – Janet.

With her head cupped in her hands, fingers gently massaging away the crater sized headache that had plagued her mercilessly all day, Janet Fraiser let her mind drift to a quiet place in her mind. It wasn't working.

A little over twenty fours hours ago, SG-1 had been found swaddled in blankets and placed in baskets by the Stargate on P2Y-771. "Downsized" – for want of a better word, and there wasn't one – was Janet's clever diagnosis. Really, the verdict was fairly obvious, if not more than a little unusual. All four members of the SGC's premier team had walked through the 'gate as adults and been carried back home as babies. Cute, yes, she duly conceded, but babies none the less.

The situation was laughable and in fact the members of the rescue team had hit the ramp Earth side with smirks plastered on their faces. Met with General Hammond's less than pleased scowl, their military masks had quickly slipped back in place, and SG-3's leader, Colonel Reynolds, had been the first to hand over his little bundle – one shorter than the average, Colonel O'Neill. Gratefully accepting the wriggling infant, Janet was left in no doubt that if they could ever restore SG-1 to their normal size, Reynolds would hold a valuable stash of blackmail material over the Colonel's head… all pun intended.

Once the initial round of "oh's" and "ah's" were out of the way, her enthusiastic nursing staff had swung into action. Each baby was assigned a team of carers tasked with carrying out all the tests necessary to determine not only the team's conditions but to verify their identities Flitting back and forth between the four high sided beds, Janet took a report from each team. Already, having only been back in the SGC for a little over half and hour, each infant had displayed personality traits consistent with their adult personas.

Standing over Teal'c's bed, Janet had watched her once giant-sized Jaffa friend, lay quiet, still swaddled in his blanket, one chubby hand breaking free and swinging in the air in protest. Curiosity and knowing seemed to peer out from behind his dark eyes despite the uncoordinated gait of his arm, and as his eyes locked with hers for just the briefest of moments, Janet swore she caught a flash of recognition in them.

Leaving his carers to their task, she moved on to the next bed.

Janet didn't need to take a peek inside the freshly applied diaper to see which babe was voicing her opinion on the cot next to Teal'c's. The closely cropped blond spiked hair was a dead giveaway, and Samantha Carter, her little arms and legs flaying in every direction, was making her intentions clear. She really didn't want to be locked inside her blanket. Janet reached through her band of carers and rested her hand on the baby's chest, lifting one finger up to tap her tiny dimpled chin. "Hey, Sam," she cooed sweetly, hoping her calm tone would soothe her small friend. "You aren't generally this vocal. Hungry huh?" Not expecting an answer, Janet smiled down at the baby girl who hadn't responded to her ministrations at all, and backed away as one of the nurses appeared, bottle in hand.

Moving on to the next bed, Janet suddenly wished she'd brought her camera with her. Buck naked, legs flayed apart and pointing in the air, Colonel O'Neill was giving his best 'sergeant major' routine. Impossible though it seemed in a child so young, Jack's wails filled the air like a banshee, and despite the desperate attempts of her staff, he was going to make his presence known. Lieutenant Riley, bottle in one hand, squared her shoulders, and choosing a moment when the Colonel had realized that breathing was necessary if you wanted to continue wailing down the mountain, thrust the teat in his tiny mouth.

Janet couldn't help but smile when after one more pitiful cry, Jack's tongue connected with the teat and the rooting instinct took hold. His legs fell to the bed, arms flopped boneless by his side, and after just a few sucks, the Colonel who killed snakes with his bare hands was latched to his bottle and well on his way to his first burping session. Job done!

Well, would have been if he hadn't chose that exact moment to follow up his howling routine by peeing all over his bedding. A diaper before a feeding might have been wiser option.

Sidestepping the stream of urine that shot into the air, Janet patted the exasperated Lieutenant on the shoulder, silently thanking her for her quick and decisive bottle action, and moved on to the next bed.

Daniel Jackson was a handsome man.

Daniel Jackson was a beautiful baby.

Still swaddled in his blanket, Daniel was wide awake and staring out at Janet from under his nest of white blond curly hair. Vivid blue eyes locked with hers, a gummy smile pulling at his rose bud lips – the moment all the sweeter as he gurgled happily and a trail of baby dribble slid from his mouth.

Janet reached down and wiped the dribble away with her thumb, earning her the softest of giggles as one of his chubby little hands reached out from the blanket and locked on to her finger. His grip was strong.

"Barb?" Janet turned to one of Daniel's carers; the woman busy writing notes on his chart. "How old would you say he is? Four? Five months? More?"

Barb tapped her pen on Daniel's chart and slid her gaze across to Janet. "Height and weight are right on the seventy fifth percentile for a three month old infant. I've just done a comparison with the results from Colonel O'Neill, Major Carter and Teal'c, and they all come in at about the same age. Three months, more or less."

"Hmm."

"You don't agree?"

Janet turned back to Daniel, his tiny hand still latched onto her finger; eyes searching her face. "No, I'm sure you're right."

"But?"

"But, Doctor Jackson's motor coordination skills seem to be more advanced that those of a three month old."

"It's possible. Fine motor skills develop at different rates in children, some quite earlier than others. Generally speaking though, by the time they've reached a certain age, most children are at the same level."

Daniel's gummy smile held Janet's attention more than the conversation, and licking her lips, she grinned back at him and whispered, "Well, Daniel, you always were that one step ahead of everyone else. I guess we should have expected as much."

That had been hours ago. Fed, burped, diapers changed – several times in the case of Colonel O'Neill – the downsized SG-1 were all tucked in their baskets in a secure part of the infirmary, soundly asleep.

Beyond her office, the rest infirmary was quiet. Soft snores and the beeping of monitoring equipment were the only noises to break the silence that marked the end of a very hectic day. Janet slide her fingers down from her temple and across her cheeks until they laced together at the bridge of her nose, the soothing motion enough for her mind to touch the cusp of sleep. The moment didn't last though. Seconds later a high pitched shrill broke the air; the unmistakable cry of an infant clearly voicing its protest. Blinking to clear her sleep-wanting vision, she peered up at the clock and mentally ticked off the hours. "The colonel needs feeding… again."

TBC…


End file.
